


Timothy Grass

by malchanceux



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, F/M, Female Tim Drake, Genderbending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Possessive Behavior, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:23:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malchanceux/pseuds/malchanceux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tim is secretly an Omega, and Ra’s Al Ghul still needs an heir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Incomplete--but it's been sitting on my computer for about a year. I'm deleting old files but didn't have the heart to scrap this. Not necessarily on hiatus, I just work on all my stories at snails pace and Jail House Rock is my current focus.
> 
> I am aware one of my biggest flaws is switching between tenses but since this isn't complete it also isn't proofread. Sorry for the cringe experience. Read at your own risk, bruh.

Red Robin drives her first into a muscle hard stomach, grabbing the lapels of the body-guards’ suit jacket before throwing him bodily into the crowd of other armed men.

It was supposed to be an easy night.

“You’re fucking dead, _hero!”_ Buff, ex-military, cocky, and equipped to the teeth like all the others; Timeena tosses the guard’s gun across the decadent dining hall and knocks him unconscious within three moves. The other five, six, seven, _eight_ hired muscle follow quickly behind.

She wasn’t even supposed to be on patrol.

“Stop where you are you cunt, or the bitch gets it!” Tim pivots, takes in the hostage situation with a trained eye. Rat, a new upstart in Gotham’s underworld, had the looks and personality to back up the street-name. He’d made a lot of money quick, even bought a mansion not too far off from the Wayne manor, and of course had attracted the attention of a few higher classed women.

Women like Stacy Veck’s—a party girl born into money only to find herself quickly running out of funds. Men like Rat were the only way she could support her preferred lifestyle. Still, their _budding romance_ didn’t make the gun held to Stacy’s head any less real, or Rat’s willingness to pull the trigger any less true.

“Drop the gun, Rat. What do you think killing her will accomplish?”

Rat pushed the gun roughly at Stacy’s temple, higher functions marinating in his temper—not thinking clearly. Three more armed men entered the dining hall from behind Tim, all brawn and no brain. Not a good combination when mixed in with semi-automatics.

It was supposed to be her night off, and if one of Rat’s goons hadn’t tried to butcher Timeena Drake in an alley for her pocket change, _Red Robin_ would have never been called out to play.

Rat’s a nervous wreck—shaking like a lamb at the slaughter and barely holding the gun steady. Tim wouldn’t doubt a good buzz either, if the empty wine bottle on the dining table was anything to go by. She would bet anything her throwing arm is faster than Rat’s trigger finger.

It takes four disc’s to defuse the situation: one to break the fingers of every armed man in the room. Stacy ducks instinctively at the sound of gunfire, Tim jumps into the mix with fists blazing; Rat goes down hard with a broken nose.

The police are on their way and Stacy is physically unharmed—all of Rat’s men are down for the count.

Tim turns on her homing beacon when she notices the front of her costume is soaked through with blood.

 

 

 

She doesn’t remember passing out, but nonetheless she wakes cradled in Batman’s arms.

Tim recalls driving away from Rat’s estate, remembers trying to stay out of sight. She doesn’t remember running off the road and crashing into a tree—or Bruce and Damian coming to fish her out of the wreck.

“It’s going to be okay, Timmy,” Dick coos off from the side somewhere. Tim’s too tired to look. “We’ve got everything prepped, Alfred’s gonna pull out the bullet and sew you up good as new.”

Bruce lays Tim down gently on the cool surgical table kept in the Batcave for emergencies. She hadn’t even realized they’d been moving.

Tim vaguely acknowledges the mask being placed over her mouth and nose before everything falls away and she passes out again.

 

 

 

“Quit complaining Baby Bird. You get to sit back and relax and say fuck all to chores and school—you’re living the American dream.”

Tim glared up at Jason.

“Your bedside manner sucks. _And_ you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the asshole who’s bringing you tea and pain meds,” Jason set the serving tray down on Tim’s bedside table, “Is a thank you too much to ask for?”

“Yes.”

Jason plopped down on the bed next to Tim’s feet, purposely jarring her wounds.

“Fine, _fine._ I’ll take the stupid pills.”

“That’s my good little Baby Bird.”

Grabbing the tea and medication, Tim took them with all the niceties of a wet cat. She hated pain medication. Hated the way they made her tired, hated how she was so dependent on them when injured, hated the fact she was _grounded_ until she could function without them.

“Happy now?”

“I’m shitting rainbows and unicorns, I assure you.”

Tim was trying real hard to remember all the reasons why it wasn’t okay to punch Jason in the throat.

“Don’t be that way, Replacement. Just sit back and relax, have a nap, watch a movie: enjoy yourself.”

“Jay, what would _you_ do in my situation?”

“Something stupid. Which is why I’m the one up here and not Dick-face or Alfred. I’m not exactly a good role model—”

“—and have the bedside manners of a cactus—”

“—but I at least know all the shit you’ll try to get yourself into the field sooner. None of which will work with me around. So get comfy, Chuckles, and do your best impersonation of a potato.”

“I hate you.”

Jason just grinned his annoying shit-eating grin and ruffled Tim’s hair.

“Love you too, Baby Bird.”

 

 

 

An hour or so after Jason left Tim to rest, Alfred came in with another cup of tea and pills of his own. In that moment, Tim didn’t think she could properly express her gratitude in words. She’d have to make it up to the older man some way.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Tim said as she took the tea and medication without the earlier hostility. These pills… they weren’t meant for pain, “This means a lot to me.”

“Of course, Timeena. I just wish I could convince you that the secrecy wasn’t necessary.”

“Alfred,” Tim sighed tiredly. They’d been over this a thousand times since the older man had caught her red handed with a bottle of suppressants. There was a very select few people who knew Timeena Drake-Wayne was an Omega, and Alfred had become the first person in the Wayne household to come into the loop.

Her parents had done anything and bribed anyone to keep the horrible truth from getting out; had put Tim on suppressants the moment she showed signs of maturity. After all, how could the Drake heir take over the company if she were a mere _Omega?_ All the official papers stated she was a Beta with a hormone deficiency. She’d never function quite like one, never smell like one, and wasn’t that just convenient? Because of the suppressants, she’d never smell like an Omega either.

“I will not tell the others, not until you deem them ready to know.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

 

 

 

The thing about being a vigilante was that just because you were injured on the job, didn’t mean your counterpart had the luxury of sitting out public events that were sure to be a painful experience. So even though Red Robin was currently out of commission, Tim Drake-Wayne still needed to make her expected appearance at Wayne Enterprises hosted charity events. That’s where Tim found herself now, sore and tired and trying hard to keep her smile dazzling. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up before boredom alone finished what Rat’s bullet had started.

“Why Timeena, shouldn’t you be in bed resting?”

Tim stiffened minutely, recognizing the voice. She turned, smile slipping from her lips as she faced Ra’s Al Ghul. She tried not to crush the half empty champagne flute in her hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am simply paying my dues to Wayne Enterprise’s yearly charity gala.”

“Right. Of course you are. Because helping the city’s less fortunate has always been a hobby of yours.”

“Your suspicion wounds me, Timeena.”

“Wounded or not, it is what you have _earned_. What are you really doing here?”

Ra’s smirked, eyes dancing with an emotion Tim couldn’t quite identify. The Alpha grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server and sipped at it before replying.

“You look beautiful this evening. Red is certainly a good color on you.”

Tim blushed, feeling positively naked now in her dress with her enemy’s eyes lingering on vulnerable flesh. Her bare shoulders prickled with gooseflesh and she wished she had worn something less revealing and easier to maneuver in. Tim wanted desperately for leather armor instead of the thin cover of a polyester mermaid gown.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she bit.

“I am here for something more than helping the _less fortunate_ of Gotham, yes. As for what it is—well, that would be _telling,_ wouldn’t it?”

“Your games won’t work with me, Ra’s. We’ve been through this before.”

“And you proved yourself worthy, Timeena. Do not think I would brush off your capabilities so easily. It is _because_ of our past quarrels that I find myself in this rotting city.”

“Whatever you’re planning—”

“Oh I am far past planning, Timeena,” Ra’s said as he took a menacing step forward. Tim kept her head high and posture firm. She refused the Omega instincts nagging at the back of her head and stared down the larger man without hesitation. Years of doing this—with her parents, with the public, with _Bruce—_ made her all but unbreakable, even when faced with the Demon’s Head.

Her grip on her glass slackened and Tim blinked hard, confused when her body seemed to become ten times more heavy than just moments before. A bout of lightheadedness made the room seem to spin.

“Feeling unwell, Detective?” Ra’s smirked. Tim grimaced, tried to take a step back and away from the menacing figure and found herself stumbling with a sudden loss of equilibrium. Embarrassingly her right heel tipped from beneath her as Tim tried to steady herself. The Omega would have fallen if not for the arm that quickly wrapped around her waist. Every molecule in her body fought the urge to push away from the man all but holding her up--her legs were like jello, and mixed with stilettos Tim knew she would hit the floor face first the moment out of Ra’s’ reach. And unfortunately for her, given who she was dealing with, it was in the best interest of the people around her to make as little a scene as possible.

“Oh, my!” an older Beta woman Tim couldn’t quite place hovered, concern and bemusement clear in her expression, “Are you okay, dear? What happened?”

“I think she may have had a little too much to drink,” Ra’s answered with a chuckle, so smooth in his lie, arm holding the Omega to his body that much more firmly. He set his champagne down on the nearest table.

“Should we get Bruce, do you think?” Another guest, an Alpha woman Tim knew worked for WE, asked.

“No, there’s no need to trouble Mr. Wayne,” The Demon said before Tim could even try to answer, “I’ll get Miss Wayne here to her driver. I think an early end and a good night's sleep is all she’ll need.”

“Oh now don’t go taking after Bruce now, Timeena,” the Beta laughed at her own jest, “He’s the life of the party but in his younger years I remember quite a few nights with one too many drinks.”

Tim smiled through her anger, forced her response to be as playful as a tipsy Wayne would be. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. I guess I didn’t realize how much I had, ha ha.”

Ra’s adjusted his hold on Tim as he stirred them away and towards the exit. The Alpha kept a firm hand at her upper arm for support, and slithered another _far_ too familiarly down her lower back to grip her hip to help her keep balance.

“What the _Hell_ do you think you’re doing, Ra’s?” the Omega hissed--or tried to. As she spoke her tongue had become heavy and so it came out more like the concentrated attempt to not _slur_ that it was _._

“I am merely helping an inebriated young Wayne to a car.”

Tim looked about the ball room frantically, trying to keep her expression calm as she searched for Bruce or Dick—God, even _Damian_. But they weren’t there, none of them. Not even Alfred. Tim was drugged to the gills and she couldn’t even find the little shit related to the bastard who’d dosed her!

“The other members of your family are otherwise _occupied,_ Timeena. I’m afraid you are alone in this. But be careful with your next move—I know how much you hate to see _‘innocents’_ get hurt.”

Cool evening air gushed over Tim’s sweat damp skin as Ra’s effortlessly pulled her out of the building, kidnapping her in front of Arkham city’s most elite and walking away like he _wasn’t_ a mass murdering psychopath. The scene was sureal--no one knew the man graciously helping the drunk young Wayne to a car was a predator of the worst kind. And Tim couldn’t do a damn thing to let anyone know otherwise.

Making a scene and bringing attention to the situation was not a good option. But with Dick nor Bruce nor Damian in sight, that seemed like the only option _left_ . Still, if she _did_ call attention to herself, if someone realized what was going on and tried to help, would Ra’s kill them so carelessly?

Dread clutched at Tim’s heart when she saw one of Ra’s’ men dressed like any other guest hold the back door of a SUV open, waiting for his master and his _catch_.

Oh jesus, this was actually happening.

Panic mixed with fight or flight and years of training; she did not know if resisting was a good idea, but she would be damned before she let the son of a bitch take her without a fight!

Tim used her current state to feign a fall. Ra’s leaned with her weight to compensate, and the Omega used the momentum to boost her sluggish body, to give her right hook power behind it. Ra’s caught the attack, but wasn’t prepared for the nerve strike that quickly followed after. With a grunt, Tim was released.

The Omega twisted away, made to activate the commlink in her ear, but her arms were grabbed and yanked behind her back. A bone crushing grip on her wrists pulled her flush against Ra’s’ chest. The sudden, jarring movement made pain flare in Tim’s stomach. A groan is all the Omega would grant the injury--she had long since trained to push past physical trauma.

“That wasn’t very nice, Timeena.”

“Neither is this!” Tim grunted, throwing her head back to try and break the man’s nose. Ra’s pulled back, however, purvey to the cheap shot after their last encounter. Tim tried to counter by wrenching an arm free and trying for a wide swing, but her attack was weak. The Alpha grabbed hold of both her arms again easily, maneuvering Tim into the back seat of the SUV less like a well trained vigalante and more like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Get off!” she yelled, fear turning to indignity turning to rage. Did this _Alpha_ really think she would go so easily for him? So _docile?_

Tim wedged one heeled foot on the running board of the car, giving herself leverage where she lacked strength.

“Timeena--”

“If you think I will make this simple for you, Ra’s, then you are terribly mistaken. I will make this as painful for you as possible.”

She arched her back, lifting her second foot out of her shoe and off the ground as she pushed all her weight into the Demon Head’s hold. With her heeled foot seated firmly in the running board Tim found purchase with her bare foot on the leather seat of the SUV. Ironically, she thought, as the hotel’s personnel and some of the guests milling outside the gala began to take notice of what was happening, Tim _looked_ like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.

As she forced all her weight into the small of her back where Ra’s held the painful grip on her wrists, the Demon was forced to move one hand to her shoulder to keep his grip steady. It was all the opening she needed.

Tim dropped her weight with all the suddenness that she had lifting it, using the leverage she had with her feet to turn her body as she fell. Tim knew she could not stop Ra’s. He had caught her unawares and used the advantage of surprise to drug and further weaken her. She was not going to win this fight, and unless by some miracle her family came for her, his plan would come to fruition. But as Ra’s apparently was not above cheap shots such as sedatives, Tim was not above _biting._

As her body spun and fell, as Ra’s struggled for a better grip on her, Tim pushed off the SUV and lunged for the Alpha’s neck. The movement sent a _splitting_ pain across her stomach, and Tim was well acquainted enough with the sensation to know she had ripped open her stitches, but the mouthful of flesh was well enough a reward. Sinking her teeth through Ra’s Al Ghul's skin and drawing both blood and a cry from the man was an accomplishment all its own.

In seconds the Demon has a hand around her throat and one pressing hard into the wound at her stomach. Tim released her bite at his neck with a choked sob as he threw her bodily into the side of the car. Tim’s head bounced off the hard plastic of the SUV’s frame and suddenly the world goes dark. She was not unconscious, as she felt as she was maneuvered into the vehicle, could even make out a second set of hands grabbing her from within the car to pull her across the seat.

Everything is ringing in her ears as she struggles to open her eyes. Tim knows along with her gunshot wound she now had a pretty severe concussion to be worried about.

“Drive,” she hears Ra’s like he’s a million miles away. Tim’s hands are gathered up and zip tied together. Her remaining stiletto is removed as her ankles get much of the same treatment, though from the feel of it, with a fine rope.

Finally her eyes obey her as Tim’s head lolls back against the headrest.

“What can you possibly hope to achieve from this, Ra’s?” she asks, her voice raspy from the earlier rough handling.

The Alpha sits across from her, as the second row of the car had been customized to face back, with a partition between the back and the drivers seat. He holds a bandage to where Tim had bitten him at his neck. For a moment he regards her with clinical eyes--Tim knows Ra’s well enough by now to know that’s his temper boiling alongside his insanity. Knows that _this_ is the Ra’s Al Ghul to fear--not the calculating, philosophical one.

She feels blood smeared at the corner of her mouth. Reflexively she licks at the warm substance like an irritation--and is revolted as more of the coppery taste invades her mouth. The Alpha tracks the movement with keen eyes, and the cold detachment is gone as swiftly as it had come. He smirks instead, his eyes dancing with a mirth that pisses Tim right the fuck off.

As rudely as she can manage, she spits his blood out onto the carpeted floor.

“Go fuck yourself.”

She’s being uncharacteristically brash, but she’s hurt and she’s scared and _damn_ if Ra’s doesn’t get under her skin. But Tim also knows how to get under his, so she channels her inner Jason. She’s gambling on him needing her alive for whatever he has planned--certainly he wouldn’t kill the Robin he went through so much trouble to catch.

Ra’s is on top of her in a flash. He fists her hair in one hand and uses the other to keep her pinned. He pulls her head to the side, exposing her throat in an act of dominance.

“Do you think you are proving a point?” his breath slides hot over her ear he’s so close. “Do you think by committing such crude acts that you are making me regret my decision to _take_ you?”

Tim prepares for teeth, readies herself for Ra’s to give her a matching, bloody wound. Instead, a hot tongue licks a long, hot line from the base of Tim’s neck to the soft back of her ear.

“Oh my _god--”_ she chokes in shock. Her hands reach up and fist the man’s shirt as she squirms uncomfortably in his grip.

“I value your violence and stubbornness, Timeena. It is that and your viable _womb_ that I am claiming you as _mine.”_

Then the teeth come, not as savage as Tim’s had been but enough to be painful and leave dark bruises in their wake.

“Get _off_ of me you _bastard!”_

Ra's releases his hold on her and sits back in his seat. Tim grabs at her stomach, the struggle having brought the wound alive with a sharp pain. She leans heavily on the car door, the world wobbly and spinning again. The concussion and whatever drugs Ra's slipped her are not mixing well. Nausea roils in the back of her throat, though she's not sure if that's from physical strain or a response to the implications Ra's has laid out for her.

"I thought you would have learned your lesson from Damian," Tim hisses. "Wayne's and Al Ghul's don't _mix_."

"I can admit to my failures. Letting his mother raise that _spawn_ being one of them," Ra's watched Tim; studied her expression as her features shifted between anger and anxiety and back again. Her body shook with each exaggerated breath; unshed tears drowned sharp blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed red from her temper. The Omega looked absolutely stunning like this--bloodied and flustered. And the developing bruise at her neck...

"Our child will have the world at their finger tips; all the power of the League, quickened by only superior genes _,_ and born of a true bond between Alpha and Omega. No fear of death. It will not be denied."

"You're crazy," Tim was slumping now, her weight entirely against the door. She had been fighting against the sedative thus far, but though slow acting it was strong. And she had been sipping at it for most of the evening. Even in that Timeena had surprised Ra's--with what was mixed into her champagne she should not have been able to put up such a fight. But then her penchant for undermining his carefully laid plans was part of her appeal.

"My family will come for me," it's not a threat and Tim doesn't say it like one.

"I know," the Demon smiles as her head rests on the cool glass of the window, eyes drooping. "But by then they will be too late."

"You're fucking crazy," Tim repeats softly as her eyes fall shut, forcing tears to slip down her cheeks.

The Alpha sits in silence for a moment, gazing contently at his prize. Red truly was a marvelous color for her complexion, and the dress contoured her body and followed the curve of her chest like a second skin. It is when his eyes fall to the growing crimson stain of TImeena's gown that he knocks on the partition behind him, gaining the attention of the ninja at the wheel.

"Find the nearest safe-house. Have the staff ready the med bay. We will need to tend to our _guests_ wound before we leave this wretched city."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a very strange and sudden burst of inspiration for Ra's/Tim today. Enjoy.

Tim wakes to the smell of clean linen and the tang of an ocean breeze. In the fringes of sleep she thinks at first of the Wayne vacation condo in west Florida, but the air is too crisp and cool, not at all like the perpetual muggy weather of the southernmost sunshine state.

Tim opens her eyes to unfamiliar shades of pale blue and eggshell white; takes in worn wood walls and simple beach themed decor with a sense of dread. As quickly as the remnants of sleep leave her the events of the Wayne Enterprises charity gala come rushing back. Tim’s sits up, sheets pooling in her lap. She takes in her alien surroundings with a growing panic.

Her ruined dress has been replaced by a white cotton nightgown. Tim scrunches her eyes, pushes the thought of herself being made bare in front of the enemy to the back of her mind. She could agonize over that particular humiliation when she was out of this mess.

Throwing the sheets back, Tim stands from the bed with the intention of _quietly_ peeking out the rooms open window. Instead, once on her feet, a bout of vertigo has Tim scrambling to catch herself on the window sill.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, closing her eyes and holding her head until the room felt like it would hold still. The faint sound of crashing waves drew Tim’s attention. Another muttered expletive passes her lips at the sight of a distant, cloudy shore line. Passed an expansive field of meadow cat's-tail was a shell strewn beach, as endless as it was empty. Isolated.

Tim spins on heel at the sound of the door opening behind her, still having to use the window sill for balance.

“Where am I?” Tim demands.

“Someplace very far away from Gotham,” Ra’s replies simply, as though commenting about the weather. “Do you like the view? I picked this room specifically with you in mind. I thought the open space might help with the transition.”

“You’re insane,” she says, and he must be to think a place like _this,_ so quaint, so much like an aging couple’s _vacation home_ , would be able to hold a Robin.

“There’s no need for a senseless power play, no need for a cage. A simple tracking implant at the base of your neck will halt any attempt at escape, Detective.” The Demon’s Head says, as if reading her mind. “And now you are thinking of the Batman, or Nightwing and my grandson. Let me assure you, this house will never be found. You will not be _‘rescued’._ Have you not noticed, my dear, the wound at your stomach?”

Tim’s hand hovered where Rat had shot her not days ago. She didn’t feel the pull of stitches, or the deep ache the injury had been plagued with since the bullet had been pulled from her flesh.

“Completely healed. Only minor scarring,” Ra’s says; Tim’s stomach drops. Feels as though a black hole has opened up in her gut. Her fingers scramble where the wound should be. Tim doesn’t even feel the rough pull of a healing scab…

“That took time, Timeena. Quite a lot of it.”  

“You’re lying,” Tim whispers the denial, but she knows the man is telling the truth.

“No. I am not.”

“What do you _want_ from me?”

“I thought I made my intentions plenty clear before.”

Tim laughs, hysteria bubbling just under her skin. “So I’m what, just an incubator now?”

“Never ‘just’,” Ra’s says, stepping further into the room. Tim is too numb to move, too dizzy to put up any kind of a fight if she wanted to. “If that were all I was searching for, in this day and age, I could have the perfect heir created in a laboratory. Certainly Damian was a lesson that more than just a viable womb and preferable genetics are necessary for what I am searching for.”

“Then why me?”

“Because it has been a very, very long time since an omega has so much as made me blink. Since I have found one worthy of being my Bonded… And everything that comes with such a commitment.”

The alpha is close now. Close enough that Tim has to look up; that Tim could feel the heat of his body.

“And if I do not find _you_ worthy?” she hissed.

A hand reaches up to caress the soft skin of Tim’s cheek. “We both know that is not quite true, don’t we, young Detective?”

An angry heat flushes the omega’s face. “Don’t flatter yourself. Bonds are of consent--you can _rape me_ , Ra’s, but I will not bond with you.”

“No, I suppose no matter how compatible we are your _morals_ and your loyalty to the Wayne legacy will hold you back,” the alpha agrees. “But that’s the beautiful thing about biology. It is not limited by the hesitations of the mind. Are you familiar with the drug Genolysipam?”

Tim broke out into a cold sweat, a pit opening up in her stomach.

“You,” she laughs, mirthlessly. “You didn’t just patch up the bullet wound--you kept me out for weeks to clear my system of my suppressants. You think forcing my _heat_ will make me what, more receptive? You’re not just insane, you are _delusional.”_

“Not force, Timeena. I simply cleansed your body of an alien substance hindering what otherwise would occur naturally.”

 _“Naturally,”_ Tim snarls. “What Genolysipam does is not _natural.”_

The omega fists the cotton dress at her lower abdomen, imagining all that the fertility drug has done thus far. Often it was used in small doses to wean omega’s off suppressants before they Bonded to their chosen intended, as it kept the side effects from getting terribly severe. Unfortunately with suppressants, when used for long periods of time, coming off the medication was a lot like a detox. Drugs like Genolysipam were created to help make the process less violent.

But it was also used by omega’s and beta’s alike whose reproduction organs needed a little extra help to become a fertile, healthy environment for an egg to catch. Tim, unlike many who were prescribed the drug, did not have any diagnosed deficiencies. For the past few weeks, slipping off her suppressants and being given who knows what kind of dosages of the fertility medication, Tim could only imagine the state of her body. How quickly she was heading toward the tipping point into her first heat in a very, _very_ long time.

“Perhaps the means are not natural,” Ra’s concedes. He reaches out for Tim, grabbing her by the forearms and leading her across the room toward a small table set, pulling out a chair for her.

“But heat will nevertheless reveal the truth.”

“I won’t bond with you,” Tim says sternly. “I have no desire. You disgust me.”

The Demon’s Head smiles cruelly at that.

“I am willing to take such a bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim's nightgown, as I imagine Ra's would be this pretentious. ;)
> 
> http://www.thetradeboss.com/userfiles/women-night-wear1.jpg


	3. Chapter 3

Though Tim’s mind screams for her to stand up and bolt--jump through the open window and _swim_ to freedom if need be--Tim’s body is still much too weak from the detox and whatever sedatives Ra’s has been pumping into her to even stay awake much more than thirty minutes. After Tim’s argument with the Demon’s Head she realizes how exhausted she feels, how heavy her eyes suddenly are.

Ever the gentleman, Ra’s offers a cup of tea and a small biscuit to help settle her stomach before she passes out again. Timeena resolutely refuses. The alpha smiles knowingly, sits back in his own chair, and sips his tea patiently. They both know she won’t last very long.

Tim glares at the window, curses it for being so close and yet so far out of reach. She glares at the bed, sheets rumpled from where she had been sleeping in it for who knows how long. From the heavy tug in her limbs, Tim knows she would not make it to either on her own, and even just the thought of going back to sleep anywhere _near_ Ra’s Al Ghu--

“So stubborn,” she hears from behind her, and suddenly Tim’s eyes fly open. When had they closed?

The alpha stands at Tim’s back, his large hands cupping her face and bracing her neck, holding her against the muscled plane of his stomach for support. Keeping her from toppling over if she nodded off again. _When_ she nods off again. Even the adrenaline of Ra’s Al Ghul suddenly being so close is wearing thin, Tim’s eyes falling shut once more.

“You are such a bastard,” she slurs, her body resting fully into his hold.

“Keep serenading me, dear one,” the alpha growls into her ear. “I do admire your spirit.”

And then Tim is floating; arms reach under her, lift her, and carry her away. Tim’s mind travels slow, useless paths like a bubbling brook. She thinks how _cliche_ of Ra’s, carrying his intended to bed. How _forward,_ and inwardly she scoffs. The whole situation was surreal--perhaps between the drugs and the stress Tim had finally lost her mind like Jason.

“Your mind is not lost, simply exhausted,” a rumbling chuckle vibrates deep in the chest Tim is most definitely lying against. “Sleep, Detective. You are safe here.”

 _‘Here’_ is what I need to be protected from, Tim thinks before finally drifting into the blank space of her mind, free from tumbling stray thoughts.

 

 

 

The next time Timeena wakes up, there is blissfully no Ra’s Al Ghul to greet her. Instead, a _very_ tall woman awaits Tim’s return to consciousness at the foot of her bed.

“Staring is rude, you know,” groggy and rude was not something new for Tim.

When a cup of coffee is pushed into her hands with _just_ the right amount of sugar, Tim decides she could deal with the staring. For now.

“So are you my jailor?” Tim asks after a few scalding sips. The woman in question was no less than six feet tall, her lean muscles making her all the more intimidating. If she would grow her hair out the ninja could easily be mistaken for Wonder Woman with her impressive stature.

“My name is Ali Amari, Ms. Drake. I am to serve you for as long as Ra’s Al Ghul bids it his will.”

“Serve me, or make sure I stay put in my gilded cage?”

Ali raised a thick brow, irritation drawing her mouth taught.

“ _Serve_ ,” Ali emphasized. “I am to be the personal handmaid of the Demon Head’s chosen.”

Timeena scoffed. “I don’t need a handmaid.”

“Perhaps not need,” Ali conceded. “Not now, at least.”

A pit of nerves opened up in Tim’s gut. _‘Not now’:_ a heavy reminder of what was to come. Of what Tim’s body was slowly and steadily heading towards.

_Heat._

“I have prepared you breakfast, Ms. Drake. I have it served in the kitchen. It overlooks the beaches, and the windows are open. Ra’s Al Ghul thought it best for you to get some fresh air, after being incapacitated for so long.”

“How thoughtful,” Tim growled. “He could have just not drugged me, if he was so concerned.”

Ali’s expression remained impassive, her only acknowledgment a slight nod.

Tim sighed. She plucked at the soft cotton sleeve of her nightgown. “I don’t suppose there’s anything else for me to wear?”

“Of course,” Ali moved from the foot of the bed toward a heavy wood wardrobe. She pulled opened the doors and stepped aside for Tim’s inspection in one fluid motion. The taller woman stood at a strict attention, her posture rigid and her arms crossed at her back. Her movements were sleek and light, something Tim saw a lot of in League of Shadows, but in contrast to the ninja Tim had fought against--fought _with--_ Ali held herself with a presence of military background.

“Where did you serve?” Timeena asked, sliding out of bed. Her legs were wobbly beneath her, like a young colt, but with determination the omega managed to walk to the wardrobe unassisted. “Before Ra’s Al Ghul, I mean.”

“There is no time before the Demon’s Head for Ali Amari, Ms. Drake.”

Tim reached out one hand to the side of the closet to steady herself. She looked her _‘handmaid’_ in the eyes, studying her more intently. Ali had a very mild scent, nothing Tim would ever be able to pick out of a crowd. She was a beta then. One built like any alpha dreamed to be.

“You start a new life in the League,” Tim said, recalling stories she had heard from Pru, Z, and Owens. “New purpose, new teachings… a new name. Who was Ali Amari before her new beginning?”

“Dead,” Ali said. “Empty.”

There’s a pause, a moment of silence where Tim holds Ali’s steady gaze. The omega feels like as a Robin she should rebuttal, say something heroic like _‘the old you was worth something too’._ The words wilt and die before they even make it to Tim’s tongue. Empathy was a powerful tool, and Timeena knew all too well what it felt like to be without a purpose, without a will to drive you forward. To be empty inside.

That is, after all, how Red Robin came to be.

“Then I am glad I was able to meet Ali Amari,” Is all Tim can think to say.

Ali gives another small nod in acknowledgment. The beta would be an amazing poker player.

Tim reaches into the wardrobe and grimaces. There’s a very small range of options. The omega pulls out a thick strapped, blue sundress. If Ra’s Al Ghul thinks he’s limiting her by any means, he’s dead wrong. Timeena Drake was just as capable of choking a man out with her thighs in a skirt as she was in pants.

The next item of clothing Tim sees has her face turning beet red. There is a bra hanging behind the dresses and skirts, a deep crimson thing with a small black bow at the center. It is a lacey monstrosity with absolutely no lining. As much as Tim is tempted to say _‘fuck you’_ to Ra’s Al Ghul, she is not privy to the idea of walking around the Demon’s Head braless.

Ali guides Tim to the connecting bathroom. The beta pulls out a white fluffy towel and gestures to the toiletries already stocked in the shower stall before leaving the omega to her own devices. Grudgingly, Timeena showers and dresses. The entire time she thinks about not bathing or dressing in Ra’s Al Ghul’s clothes, not eating or even speaking to the man when he would eventually approach her again. She thinks this out and tries to formulate a plan of resistance, but in the end it boils down to Tim needing to be in the best condition possible for an escape to be a possibility. Not eating would be the quickest way to shoot herself in the foot.

When led downstairs all Timeena can do is stare. The decor of the house is nothing Tim would expect from the mighty Ra’s Al Ghul. The estate is large but unassuming. Throughout the house is the soft beach theme; so quaint and so homely. It was like something out of a Home Makeover magazine, not where Tim would expect to find the Demon’s Head.

Tim’s room is situated on the second story in the back. As Ali leads the omega down the long hallway to the staircase Tim notes that every door along the way is open. It is a curious detail that has Tim puzzled until she peeks inside the last room on the left, closest to the stairs.

The room is dark, its only light source the scant slivers of sun escaping the black-out curtains installed over the rooms only window. The carpet is different from what Tim had seen in the rest of the rooms thus far, plush and full and soft looking. There is a four-poster bed with another set of heavy curtains, pulled back so Tim could see the plethora of pillows piled on in no specific order.

Before Tim can fully register what she is looking at she takes a step toward the room. In her mind's eye she can see herself curling up in the middle of that bed, pulling back the curtains and laying in the middle of the nest of pillows.

_Nest._

Tim stops herself before she can cross over the threshold. This room was--

The omega grabbed the bedroom’s door handle and slammed it shut. Anger had her fists shaking at her sides. She looked over at Ali, who dutifully stood at the stairs waiting for Timeena. Ali’s impassive expression revealed nothing.

For a moment, Tim imagined lunging at the taller woman. Clawing and punching and biting and throwing the beta down the stairs. Instead, face dark, Tim walked past the older woman and briskly down towards where the back patio would be. Tim would not be baited by some cheap attempt to woo her omegan biology. Even in the throws of heat, Tim would not be swayed. That room… It was a wasted effort on Ra’s’ part. Soon, he’d see that. Just as he’d see this entire endeavour was in vain.

 

 

 

Besides Tim’s glaring and brooding, breakfast is an uneventful affair completely void of Ra’s Al Ghul. It throws the omega off-kilter,  as it seems out of place. She had expected goading and prodding and the endless promises that poured forth from any alpha in the proximity of an omega near Heat. Instead she is given silence; Ali’s diligent but quiet vigil.

Lunch and dinner proceed in the same stagnant manner.

Tim’s hackles do not lower for a second.

She explores the house to test her boundaries. Ali, for the most part, was unaffected by her meandering and tinkering. Several cameras and microphones are found and crushed with the same nonchalance one might use to squash a bug. Tim’s anxiety only grows with each device destroyed, as her ‘handmaid’ did nothing to stop her.  

It isn’t until Tim tries to go out the kitchen’s sliding glass door toward the beach that a reaction is pulled from the beta.

“I am sorry, Ms. Drake,” Ali held Tim’s wrist in a gentle but firm grasp, keeping the omega from opening the door. “For now it is forbidden to leave the safety of the house.”

“I thought you weren’t my _jailor?”_ Tim bit, glaring at the taller woman. She tensed for confrontation.

“You misunderstand,” Ali’s expression remained flat, her tone neutral and body language unchanged. “This is not to imprison you, but to protect you. There are ninja outside watching over the perimeter. Some betas, but mostly _alphas.”_

“Your point?” Tim yanked her hand back, fists trembling at her sides. Hours alone with the stoney beta had not helped her temper. The stillness of the house inevitably drew her thoughts to the room upstairs, which only fed the fire steadily bringing her blood to boil.

“Your scent,” Ali answered simply. "It grew stronger throughout the day. I have since then shut all windows and doors on your behalf."

 _Oh,_ Tim thought, her fists going limp at her sides. The omega felt her face flush red from embarrassment. Her scent, her pheromones, _of course._ How had that not occurred to her?

_Because you haven’t experienced a true Heat in over a decade and you never planned to have one ever again._

Crippling despair. Since Timeena first realized the identity of the Batman, since she first donned the Robin mask, she has not felt this helpless. Her training, her mind, her craft… it has always prevailed. Now, Tim didn’t know what to do. Her first instinct was to run, to brush off Ali’s warning and make a mad dash. But in her state, with her impending heat, that was not her wisest decision.

So she could fight. It seemed the more natural decision, what she had been taught all these years by Bruce. When you could not be the immovable force, be the uncontainable one. But she lost count of the ninja outside her gilded cage; had tried to keep track of how many hid in the shadows and patrolled the outside but found it a lost cause. Tim was strong, but she could admit when she was outnumbered and the odds were stacked against her. Perhaps if she had Jason’s courage _(idiocy)_ she would attempt it, but she found herself hesitating instead.

Tim could wait for her family to rescue her. That was her third and final option. But Ra’s Al Ghul was right, with how long it took for her wounds to heal and for the Genolysipam to run its course, Bruce or Jason or Dick should have found her by now. But they hadn’t. With every passing hour the likelihood of rescue became less and less realistic.

Was she destined for failure? After all these months of tallying wins against the Demon’s Head, of their back and forth, had the alpha finally won by insurmountable odds?

A sudden fatigue makes Tim’s legs weak, has her head spinning. She falls forward, but manages to catch herself on the door.

“Ms. Drake,” Ali’s voice raises in concern, probably the most emotion she has shown since Tim first woke up in this hell hole. The omega sees her own reflection in the glass door; it is one of a bone deep weariness. When Ali reaches to help steady Tim, the omega does not pull away. What was the point?

She closed her eyes against the hopelessness that threatened to consume her.

_What was the point?_

“Perhaps it would be best if you laid down,” Ali suggested.

“Perhaps,” Tim agreed, voice void. She stood on numb legs and walked back up the hardwood stairs. She kept her eyes to the floor as she passed _That Room_ . She didn’t need _that_ invading her thoughts, not now.

When she reached her designated room she didn’t bother to close the door behind her. Ra’s wasn’t here, his cameras torn from their hiding places. Ali had not yet followed her to the second floor.

_What’s the point?_

Mood swings was a side effect, both of the Genolysipam and Timeena’s oncoming heat. The void she felt would pass, _should pass_ , as long as it was created by the hormone cocktail stewing in her brain.

Tim walks to the window. It was open before, Ra’s had said he’d done so with intent. Now it was shut, just like all the door and windows down stairs. Tim tried to push the window open, but it would not budge. Locked. Closed with intent. Closed because of her _heat._

_What the fuck was the point?_

Teary eyes look out at the setting sun. It wouldn’t be long until dark. Usually, from her occupation, Tim welcomed the night. Now it felt as though it would smother her.

She studied the horizon while she still could. There were several sailboats dotting the grey waters, the waves small but numerous. Judging by that, and how full the sails appeared, there was a strong winter wind. Leading up to the beach was a field of tall grass-- _Timothy grass, she knew it was called, and didn’t Ra’s like to be ironic?--_ its feathers tops dancing in the the slightest breeze. In the far right of the window Tim caught a flash of light. Rhythmic. Repetitious.

 _A lighthouse,_ Tim decides after several flashes of light, steady and unmoving. It’s light reflected off of the heavy, dark clouds that hung like curtains in the sky. It reminded her so much of home, of the endless gloom that seemed to hang over Gotham City like a guillotine.  The starless nights, bitter and cold, with nothing but her leathers and the heat of exertion to warm her.

_Wait a minute._

Tim studies the clouds more closely, how, even with the sun still setting, the light was bright enough, the clouds thick enough, for the light to visibly refract.

A sharp, wry smile slowly curled Tim’s lips.

She was Red Robin, the third to wear the Robin title, the first to garner _Young Detective_ from her enemies. She was responsible for single handedly destroying several of Ra’s Al Ghul’s bases simply out of spite, and she was the only one who believed in the Batman when all others thought him lost, the one who _found him._

She was Timeena Drake-Wayne, heir to the Drake _and_ Wayne fortune; the heir chosen by her progenitors and her adoptive father to assume their shares and control once their time came to pass. Faith in her abilities, trust in her ethics.

Ra’s Al Ghul thought he had every angle figured out; from the location, to her impending heat, to the implant he claimed was buried in her neck. But at the very least, he had underestimated her ingenuity.

Tim would not be so easily defeated.

**Author's Note:**

> Tim's dress: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b0/e3/da/b0e3daddeae1fa3ea11105903940aa97.jpg


End file.
